Lucifer slipped into the back row as the tent shook with voices. He came to watch them worship fear, to understand what held them so tight they'd choose suffering over freedom. If he could find the right question to ask—one that would crack their certainty without making them run—maybe this time would be different. The preacher held the spear above his head, its ornate shaft catching the stage lights. The crowd gasped as he told them about the blade that pierced Christ's side, how it proved their guilt, how they needed saving from themselves. Lucifer kept his eyes on the weapon, studying how it gave the preacher power over them. But the preacher's gaze swept the tent and stopped. Their eyes met across the crowd. The man's face went pale, then flushed red. He pointed the spear at Lucifer and his voice rose to a roar about demons walking among them. The crowd turned to look. Lucifer stood slowly, empty-handed and calm, and spoke one question into the sudden silence: "Why did I fall?" No one answered. They never did. But he saw three faces in the front row lean forward, mouths slightly open, like they'd heard the question for the first time. He walked out before the screaming started.